The Case of the Stolen Wardrobe
by BelleIllumina
Summary: It is rare to render the great Sherlock Holmes speechless and unhinged. I could count in one hand the people who did, and now among them is an old woman who was our client. Mrs. Susan Lilianne Garnett nee Pevensie. And given days to analyze the events I wouldn't deny that it felt like we were visited by royalty. [BBC Sherlock/Narnia crossover]


**This is long, like really long. Any flaw and stuff are all my fault. I am more acquainted with 'deducing feelings and intentions' than real facts because of roleplaying Susan Pevensie for so long. Year set would be 2013 or 2014 so Susan would be around 85-86. Crappy and Long Writing, you have been warned.**

**The Client**

_It is rare to render the great Sherlock Holmes speechless and unhinged. I could count in one hand the people who did, and now among them is an old woman who was our client. Mrs. Susan Lilianne Garnett nee Pevensie. And given days to analyze the events I wouldn't deny that it felt like we were visited by royalty._

_Being married doesn't change the fact that Sherlock would need a babysitter and it started with Mrs. Hudson calling me up because Sherlock was once again shooting the wall. I had half the mind to shoot someone's head by then, and promised that I will come as soon as I could._

"Five minutes." John Watson growled as he hit his head to his desk lightly, his wife watching him with a small smile. "Can he not realize that I have a pregnant wife and a job!"

"Well assisting him is a job of yours too." Mary pointed out while stifling a giggle.

"Assisting not babysitting!"

"You could start collecting quotes to put on shirts dear." She grinned "I could take your place. I am not that far along and it's as you said, five minutes till end of your shift. You know you could handle him when he's like this."

"Oh I know. He'll go… '**John I need a** **case!'** and he hasn't made a move to check his emails!"

"Just go." It was only when Mary had pushed him out the door did he realized he already wore his coat and was yes, ready to go.

_Mrs. Garnett, or Susan as she requested she be called, was already looking at the door of 221B when I've arrived. She was a strong woman even for one in her late 80s, she stood there without escort and an amused smile on her lips._

"Hullo. Are you searching for Mrs. Hudson?" John asked the moment he reached the door, wondering why the woman was still standing there when she could've rang or knocked.

"Oh no. I am here for Sherlock Holmes." Her voice was serene and john was positive that the woman was a singer sometime in her life. "But it wouldn't take a genius to know that he is far from a welcoming mood with his shooting. A temper that boy has."

She had that motherly tone often heard from Mrs. Hudson, but somehow hers was more firm, like a very old truth that she had known. The twinkle in her eyes almost deceiving. John thought his time with Sherlock had made him a paranoid that even an old woman he had thought of holding some deep secret that could change the course of their lives permanently.

"Oh. I believe he would be fine to receive you Ma'am. If you have a case for him, then it would be a sure." He stuck his key and opened the door. "John Watson. Come in."

"Thank you Doctor."

_After the usual initial scolding of the five year old boy for shooting the wall because he was bored and he couldn't find a much more nondestructive way of recreation, we did the usual way of receiving our clients. We did try, for Susan would seem to be a surprise for us._

"What do you have for me?" Ever the insufferable git, John had known that this is the best it could go. At least Sherlock seemed to try to find his manners in front of the woman. "Make it quick."

"By your attitude a while ago on shooting the wall, I doubt that you would want me to be quick." She smiled, a small and daresay sly one. Sherlock was about to retort a scathing remark when she continued. "But given that you do think that what an old woman have for you would be a mundane case of missing pets or something you could solve within a minute, I know where you are coming from."

**Sherlock: 0, Client: 1**

"Then what do you have? Oh let's see!" John mentally cursed. Sherlock was on a roll, he hated being outdone by anyone.

"Sherlock." The doctor warned. It fell on deaf ears.

"A cheating husband? Oh no… your husband has been dead for what… 10 to 13 years ago! A cheating in-law? Nooo…given by the fact that you've just written to your four children a few hours ago would mean that they are happily and blissfully married. Ambidextrous but favors right." Sherlock leaned forward his expression cruel and a wicked smile on his face. The expression he usually used when he tore people piece by piece. "How about a new lover? I doubt it, you are the perfect wife, honest and true. One who grew somewhere out the cities, child of war. Eldest sister. Moral and loved by her two…three brothers."

"Sherlock!" Nothing

"Knows some sport but rarely does it, archery. Harp player. Went to an all girls school given that you do have that type of poise and stance. Devout Christian. Married for almost 50 years. 49…Housewife. And a cat lady with a fascination with Medieval history." Sherlock finished with furrowed brows which was something new. Like he was still figuring things out. "Your cat isn't missing so what could you have for me? You are just one regular and boring grandmother."

"Ma'am, I am so sorry! Sher-" The client just sat there, smiling and calm, entertained with Sherlock's tirade and even to John… it was unnerving.

"My husband has been dead for 12 years. Yes my children are happily married. No cheating anything. I am also Eldest sister. I do play the harp and am familiar with archery. I have an interest with Medieval History. And yes I am a Christian and no missing cat. Very good. Even my hand preference. Amazing." The client must have the patience of a saint to not blow up at Sherlock's deductions. Even Mrs. Hudson cried when it became to extreme. "But. As usual you missed certain things. Do you not?"

It was like watching and waiting for a volcano to explode. And the client was feeding it.

"Pray tell."

" I am eldest sister but to two brothers and a sister. I am far from the perfect wife and am no housewife for all my married years. I was a diplomat and a nurse, among other things." She took out a folder and presented it to them. "All I have for you is a missing wardrobe and its contents. I need the return of the items."

John had taken the files, riffling through photos of the wardrobe and other items that are apparently in it.

"Boring. Nonsense. Not important. Petty theft."

"A whole wardrobe? Even the clothes were stolen Sherlock!"

"Mr. Holmes, the items in the wardrobe are priceless to me and I will pay any amount needed to have its return." John tensed. He knew that tone. That was the tone Mycroft often used when he needed something from either John or Sherlock. And by the reaction on Sherlock's face he had made the connection. "Given that you haven't even ranked my case or given me an answer, or even a guess would mean interest or blatant disregard."

"The latter."

"Then so it would seem." The woman sat straighter and the very air around them changed. John bristled as the air seemed to sizzle with electricity. "For a man who proclaim to be a sociopath you have too many emotional ties. Too many secrets. A brother who cares for you but is too similar to you to just tell. A childhood rivalry and grudge." John whirled and looked at Sherlock to see his expression suddenly blank. "A man who told himself not to feel anything so that you wouldn't feel tied to anyone, never to be burdened by the pain you cause with the truths you say. A man who sees feelings and sentiment as useless when the very loathing you have is a feeling. A man who had known solitude and thinks that alone protects him but deep inside is fearing change and so he acts similar to a child. The cases you need are to make use of your active mind and fill the silence for being so alone for so long."

"You, Sherlock Holmes, were a man who rendered himself blind willingly or as single sighted as you could be. Your intellect is of great age but your perception and emotions are that of a child, because of the mere truth that you recognize the use and the need of said emotions yet deems it useless and a weakness. You kept it in a box inside your mind palace." Then she turned to John for a moment. "Meeting the good doctor was a test for you at first. Test of human interaction and social behavior. His emotions and morals and virtues confuse you, but the mere fact that he did not turn away when you bared to him your intellect and deductions…which are the most important of you… interested you. He became the wire that connects you to those who you saw as tools. You don't know that labeling people as something to you is a sign of importance already. And slowly you showed who you are, another experiment to see who will stay. And again you are surprised that they did. That they are genuine. That my dear is a sign of caring."

"Stop." Sherlock's voice was contained anger.

"You died not for the game or case, but because of the guilt that you have drawn a circle of people to your dangerous life. That you being alone and that protecting you is far from true now that they are latched to your life as much as you are latched to theirs." Sherlock hands were shaking. "And even in your death you aren't alone. To pull a stunt of that kind would mean turning to people who you trust more than anything. To people who you trust your life and sanity to. People who you know wouldn't let you down because they know you through and through without you going into detail of what it must be because _they can see you._"

"Ma'am…" It was John this time. And even he was scared to intrude even when the woman was indeed tearing Sherlock apart. Not by unfeeling deductions but with the very way he think.

"The one is your brother… the very same who installed surveillance in your home. The other would be a loved one, since you would never burden your brother when you could ask someone else. This loved one…yes loved… was once ignored but when you turned to her you started to realize. Your death is indeed a death. The death of a machine to a resurrection of a man."

"And if you have paused your ravaged mind in searching for something to spite me and turn me away you could've realized that there would be a murder somewhere in my case too." A murder?

A few ragged breaths from Sherlock was all that echoed in the silence that followed. John didn't know what had happened in reality and was again stunned that it would seem Sherlock had seen a match. He had never seen him this unhinged ever since Baskerville or the Woman's fake death. "How?"

"Information and reactions. Manipulation and baiting. Observing interactions and behavior. Emotional pattern and intellectual attitude. The moment I attacked your being, the very image that you have for yourself, the belief of who you are, reactions are enough to chain conclusions. The sudden blankness of your face was a sign that I have hit a nerve." Then the woman motioned to her eyes. A light blue that could be easily mistaken as silver or gray. "I know you know how to read people in their body actions. Lying and the like…. the same I did with you."

"But how could you tell… the brother? The one who helped him fake his death?" John intervened.

"Oh that. I have heard of another Holmes in my early years as a British diplomat retiree, And I have two brothers, an older one and a younger. Sherlock reminds me of the younger."

"How about Molly?"

"Oh so her name is Molly. She is a very strong woman, a large heart too. As I can see… she could read you, or read what mattered." When John was about to repeat his question. "Oh! How I knew of a woman's involvement? Every great feat of a man is backed up by a woman."

"I do not love her." Sherlock growled out, surprising John that he did remember the woman labeling Molly as Sherlock's loved one.

"Unless you've deleted it, there are different types of love." She commented with ease. "And Sherlock Holmes, emotions are far from weaknesses. The way you have mastered your intellect to make it your greatest strength is the same process of mastering your emotions to aid yourself. And dear boy, you've missed so much already… don't miss out anymore on happiness. Self mastery is one of the greatest strengths of man."

"So would you take my case?" She asked in a cheery voice as if the showdown that happened a few moments ago didn't happen.

"Theft and Murder." Sherlock leaned back, relaxed and smirking. "We'll take the case Mrs. Garnett."

John looked surprised for a moment before shaking his head. Expect it on Sherlock to already know the name.

"Susan. I prefer to be called Susan." Susan chuckled, the charged atmosphere seeping out to a calm one. "Susan Lilianne Garnett nee Pevensie. It would be helpful when you do a background check on me the moment I step out of the room."

"Oh and I would like to be an active participant in the case." John choked on nothing. What more can this woman ask and do? "Oh not with all the running around and stuff. The smaller things… like seeing the body and the like. I have arranged the body to be delivered in St. Barts as we speak. Agreed?"

"You will willingly watch a pathologist cut up the body?" John asked with unease.

"I've seen my share of dead bodies in my lifetime."

"As a diplomat?" Sherlock said in a bored tone.

"As a diplomat."

"Then we will meet you at St. Bart's tomorrow morning by around 8. As you said we would need to do a background check." Susan nodded and moved to leave . John followed suit, ever kind and gallant to show her the way out. The shutting of the door was the only thing to break the silence that seemed too surreal still.

"Sherlock what just happened?"

"I like her." Sherlock waved a hand away. "Go home John, leave the files, do some research, I need to go to my mind palace."

_Susan proved herself interesting enough for the great Sherlock Holmes to accept her case of a stolen wardrobe and its contents mixed with a murder._

_I asked Susan what was it with the wardrobe that was so important to go to Sherlock for help, and the answer I got was most interesting._

_"Why Dr. Watson… do you believe in magic?"_

_-[Unpublished] The Blog of Dr. John Watson._

**TBC**


End file.
